DISCLAIMER: My plant died. I am too emotionally distraught to own Harry Potter.
Chapter 8: Hatred, Pure and Simple
Fear of loss is a path to the Dark Side. - Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Hermione could not believe herself. She was crying, and not the pretty crying either. She couldn't exactly explain why she was blubbering like an idiot, maybe it was because she didn't think she could take much more of anything, maybe it was because she was frustrated that Malfoy wouldn't listen to her and kept being an insufferable ass. Maybe on some level she felt bad for calling him a pathetic excuse of a wizard, but she highly doubted it because he deserved every single hateful thing that had come spewing from her mouth. Who cared if he hated her more? It wasn't as if they were anything that remotely resembled friends.
But then again, he was the closest thing that she had to a friend in this place, even if he was a complete dickhead. Maybe that's why she was crying… she had to stoop so low as to accept help from the one person she hated almost as much as Voldemort himself. And that was saying something.
Maybe she was crying because she wanted to go home. She missed her friends, she missed her family… she even missed her cat, though Crookshanks had become rather insolent with old age. How she loathed it in this prison!
Opening her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut, Hermione remembered where she was, and who she was with. Gasping, she looked up and saw Malfoy glaring down at her, and quickly dropped her arms and took a few steps backwards. "Had enough of your cry fest, Granger?" Malfoy spat, taking his wand and pointing it at his shirt, where a vertical puddle had collected. "Merlin you disgust me," he added, looking at her with malice. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and threw it in her direction. "Clean your face."
Hermione wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand, neglecting to touch the white silken mass that had landed at her feet. She may be a wreck, but she was not about to accept help from Malfoy. Squaring her shoulders, she met his hateful gaze with one of her own. "Shouldn't you be teaching me dark magic, Ferret?"
If possible, Malfoy's eyes narrowed even more. He crossed his arms and exclaimed, "I should have just let them kill you!" He then turned and stalked off into the rows and rows of books and disappeared, leaving Hermione with her mouth gaping.
What in the world did he mean by that? Why would he intervene if they wanted to kill her? Hermione shook her head. No… she must have heard him wrong. Intervening would be too much of an un-Malfoyish thing for him to attempt. He was probably only doing it to make her feel bad anyway.
While she was waiting for Malfoy to make his inevitable return, Hermione righted the couch she had so carelessly knocked over when she tackled Malfoy and sat down. What on earth had she been thinking? Attacking someone once was bad enough, but twice in one day? What was happening to her? Maybe when she had first been taken they had hit her a little too hard in the head, she thought as she felt the thin line in her hair where there had been a cut. Or maybe they had been brainwashing her in her sleep… the possibilities were endless. Then again, there had always been a part of her – and she wasn't quite sure how large – that wanted to know what it would feel like to hurt Malfoy, and hurt him badly.
She had to admit that she had thoroughly enjoyed attacking him and hearing the thud that filled her ears as he had hit the floor. She giggled as she remembered the look on his face as he had fallen backwards. The eyes huge, his mouth gaping. It had been glorious.
She was still smiling as Malfoy returned with a large stack of books that looked to be over a hundred years old. Hermione felt her stomach do a flip as the smile faded from her lips, and she took a deep breath. This was it. She was going to learn how to be a Death Eater, starting now. No going back.
Hermione gasped as Malfoy carelessly tossed the books onto the couch beside her, as if the books were articles of clothing. How could he treat books that way? Even if they were horrible books, they hadn't done anything to Malfoy that would justify him treating them that way. It was despicable. Horrible, horrible boy.
She looked at the mass of books for a moment, before looking at Malfoy. He was still glaring down at her, his icy gaze burning holes in her head. Stupid, stubborn boy. "Well?" he spat.
"Well what?" she replied as civilly as she could. Did he expect her to read his mind? He couldn't just expect her to know what to do. Merlin but she hated him!
"What do you think, mudblood! Pick up a bloody book and read it!" Once again, before she could reply, Malfoy had stalked back into the rows of books. Hermione took a deep breath and picked up a large brown book entitled The Art of Torture and opening it, hoping she could handle whatever was inside.
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Draco Malfoy sat as far away from Granger as humanly possible without losing sight of the door (just in case she decided to make a run for it). He sat in a much worn chair that was the oldest, not to mention the most comfortable, chair in the entire library. It was in a dark and neglected corner of the room, and consequently all the things surrounding him were sprinkled with a healthy dose of dust. Not that he minded at all. The five year old in him liked to think that he was the only one who knew of the small haven, though he knew that at one point someone else had liked it just as much as him.
He absently ran his finger over the surface of the table beside him, watching as a dark line appeared like a small river through the dust. Frowning, he wiped his finger on his pants before crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Not too far away, he could hear his prisoner sniffling and reading softly out loud to herself. He could still hardly believe that she had agreed to become a Death Eater, even though he knew that she really didn't have a choice. He just couldn't understand why she had chosen to.
It wasn't like her and her friends had gotten into a huge fight; Draco couldn't even remember a time where he hadn't seen the three of them together. It wasn't that she had wanted to give up; her stupid Gryffindor courage and determination wouldn't allow that. It wasn't like her friends had deserted her; she was clearly the brains of the operation. But then again, they would do something retarded like that.
Wait a second, he thought opening his eyes, why in the hell should he care about the reason Hermione Granger was at that moment sitting in his library, reading his books, learning how to be a Death Eater? Her stupid problems were of no concern to him. Besides, he wasn't too sure he wanted anything to do with this plan of his anymore… he wasn't sure how much self-control he had left, and when he snapped he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. And if Granger so much as mentioned the word mother he wasn't sure he wouldn't split her head open then and there.
Stupid mudblood, talking about his mother as if they had been best friends. She had no right to even think of his mother. She had been a thousand times the woman that Granger was. Draco's mother had put up with a lot in her lifetime, he knew. She had been forced to marry Lucius before she was even seventeen to join the last two remaining pureblood families and advance them to be the sole rulers of all wizarding society. He knew that his mother did not love Lucius – marriages between purebloods were never for something as petty as that – but for all intensive purposes she had faked it very well. He was also well aware that Lucius had had many mistresses, and very well aware that his mother knew and never said a word about what Lucius was doing.
From the time he could remember, Draco's mother had took care of him through everything. She refused to hire a nanny and instead raised Draco by herself. She had been both his mother and his father in a sense, as Lucius never seemed to want to have anything to do with him. She had saved him from his father's wrath on many occasions, but ultimately she had failed, though she never quit trying to raise him right.
He supposed she had failed at that too, raising him to be a good person. But that was his fault. He should have listened when she quietly asked him not to become his father, but he didn't. He had been too excited that Lucius was taking interest in him for once, not just looking at him like he was a nuisance – a necessity to ensure the survival of the family name.
Maybe if he knew then what he knew now, things would be different. Maybe he would still be in school, not in this hell hole that was his home. Maybe he wouldn't be assisting in making a Death Eater out of a person who had no right to be one. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Thinking about what could have been wouldn't change things now… he had made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Damn.
But that didn't mean that he had to be nice to Granger. So there.
Draco heard Granger gasp loudly, followed by an, "Oh my goodness!" He rolled his eyes at the mudblood's reaction to reading the books. If she didn't like what she was learning, she should have never agreed to help him. She should have known that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Stupid, stupid mudblood.
The more he thought about Granger, the angrier he became. Walking about his house as if she owned it, making snide comments about him and his family. Who was she to think that just because she didn't have the dark mark that she was better than everyone else? She had no idea how persuasive Voldemort could be… hell, if he really wanted to, Voldemort could get a saint to take an oath to him and get the dark mark! Granger had no idea what was in store for her, and that was what made him the angriest. How could she be so blind to not realize that this was not going to have a good outcome no matter how hard she tried? If she didn't see what she was dealing with, Granger would never last. Dumbass.
He heard her gasp again and decided to see just what she was so appalled about. Regretfully getting up from his little hiding place – didn't want to contaminate it by thinking about Granger – Draco sauntered through the library until he was in viewing distance of Granger. She was sitting in the same spot on the couch, one hand covering her mouth as her eyes moved rapidly over the words on the page and she kept shaking her head slightly, like she couldn't believe what she was reading. And was she crying again?
Draco coughed loudly. Granger jumped and wiped her eyes before looking in his direction. "What Malfoy? Can't you see I'm reading the books? I'm doing what is required of me." Then she focused her attention on the book again, though Draco noticed that her eyes were not moving.
"Merlin, Granger, you're crying again? Do you have any ability whatsoever to control your emotions?" Draco asked as he walked towards her.
"Shut it Malfoy! Unless you want me to throw this book at you!" She still had her head towards the book, but Draco was sure that he saw her chin quiver. She was probably just trying to get him to feel bad for her. Well, newsflash, it wasn't going to work. He ignored her threat and walked past her, sitting down at the chess table and beginning a game against himself. He saw from the corner of his eye Granger stealing a glance in his direction before continuing to read the book in her hand.
A tense silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity as Draco tried to ignore the witch sitting near him, in what he considered to be his large and extremely necessary personal bubble that she seemed intent on popping. He made it a point to be loud with the chess pieces – a muggle antique his mother bought years earlier, claiming it was better than wizard's chess to play – in an effort to annoy Granger as much as she was him. If he was succeeding, and Draco strongly suspected he was, Granger gave no indication whatsoever. She kept her head down and let her hair fall like a curtain so he could see nothing of her reaction, which made Draco even more aggravated.
He held a tiny pawn in his hand, contemplating what she would do if he chucked it at her. It wouldn't do much harm since it was only about the size of his pinkie, but he was sure it would elicit a nice reaction from his hated companion. Then, just as if she could tell what he was thinking, Granger looked up and glared at Draco, saying calmly, "Do it. I dare you." She stared at him like a statue, unmoving, unblinking. A devilish smile formed on Draco's face as he lifted the pawn, brought back his hand and brought it forward, pretending to throw the object at her. He watched as Granger flinched, holding up the book as if to protect herself.
Chuckling, Draco turned his attention back to the chess board and set the pawn down, just in time for the book that Granger had been reading to hit him in the arm, hard. "Ouch! What was that for, Granger?" He exclaimed, rubbing his arm and looking at her.
She crossed her arms and replied, "You think that you can scare me into listening to you by physically and emotionally abusing me? You think that you can brainwash me, me, Malfoy? You are sadly mistaken if you think that name calling and throwing things will defeat me. And if you want my help, you had better start treating me with more respect. Just because you are the only one with a wand right now does not give you the upper hand. I will be getting mine, and when I do, you'll be sorry."
It was almost hilarious; the way Granger was threatening him. Draco smirked as he said, "That is if you get your wand back, Granger. There are no guarantees in this place. Just because the Dark Lord wants you right now, doesn't mean he'll feel the same tomorrow. You'd be good to remember that."
"And if you're wrong?"
"The thing is, Granger, I'm not."
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It had been a full three days since Harry Potter had gotten a wink of sleep, but he didn't feel tired in the least. In those three days, as well as all the other days that had passed since he or anyone else had heard from Hermione, he repeatedly read her last message sent by the enchanted coin and tired to figure out what had been going on in her head. He was just positive that she had been forced to send them that message, because why would she willingly desert himself and Ron? She was not the type of person to do that sort of thing.
Or was she?
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, sighing heavily. He knew it had been a bad idea to let Hermione go off by herself to try to do something that was so stupid and so dangerous that she could very well have gotten killed. And for all he knew, she was rotting in some shallow grave somewhere. The thought of that made him sick to his stomach.
Other members of the Order of the Phoenix had doubled up the efforts of finding the location of the Death Eater camps, convinced that the last known message from the mystery insider was true, that indeed Hermione was alive and not in danger. To Harry, it all seemed a little bit farfetched. Why, if he had her, would Voldemort keep her alive? Why wouldn't he kill her and then make Harry come after her like he knew he would? It was all too confusing to handle… not even Lupin or Moody could figure out what was going on.
And it was his fault.
He just hoped that Hermione was somewhere safe and far from danger because he could accept her deserting them, but he could not accept her being in danger.
"How's it going, Harry?" came the voice of Ron as he walked into the kitchen, where Harry had been sitting since breakfast, unable to move or think clearly. His orange haired friend had taken the news of Hermione's disappearance hard. He looked worse off than Harry did, and though he was able to sleep at night, he often woke up with nightmares concerning Hermione.
"Alright, I suppose," Harry said, "any news?"
Ron shook his head and sat down heavily in the chair across from Harry. Harry could plainly see that his best friend was in love with Hermione, and had been since he could remember, and for Ron's sake as much as his own, Harry hoped that Hermione would come back to them alive. "I miss her," Ron said sadly not meeting Harry's eyes.
Harry frowned, looking down at the table. "I know. Me too, mate, me too."
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A/N: Well, there's chapter eight. I know the part with Harry and Ron is short (and kind of random) but they will be in the story again soon, and I didn't want them to be forgotten.
Thank you for reviewing: SnowflakeGinny I hope you enjoyed your present!
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